


Close

by this_wayward_life



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Canon Compliant, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 12:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21320281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_wayward_life/pseuds/this_wayward_life
Summary: Five times women who'd loved Steve and Bucky noticed something not-so-platonic between them, and one time everyone noticed it.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 15
Kudos: 508





	Close

1 - Sarah Rogers

Sarah Rogers prided herself in her level-headedness. Being a single mother and working long hours at the local hospital made it hard for her to lose her nerve without there being some consequences. She stood in front of the people spitting insults about her country and her accent with her head held high, ignored the jabs about her poor Joseph, something that she'll probably never be truly over, and gave everyone who doubted her the proverbial middle finger as she single-handedly raised a very ill child and worked double shifts, saving lives every day and coming home to cook up dinner for her little Steve, whose nose was constantly blocked and whose breaths sounded like marbles rattling in a tin can, but who still had that determined look on his face, like he was going to take on the world.

And because her little Steve had a heart of gold, he couldn't stand to see bad things happen. But his poor body was too small, too weak to keep up with his spirit. And Sarah was terrified that one day he'd try too hard, and get too hurt.

So maybe that was why Sarah reacted the way that she did when she came home one day, when Steve was eight years old, to find him bleeding all over her sofa with a black eye and a swollen nose, a boy around his age kneeling in front of him and carefully wiping at a cut just below his hairline.

"Steven Grant Rogers, what did you do?" Sarah snapped, putting her hands on her hips. Her son flinched and turned slowly around to look at her. The other boy had frozen, the washcloth in his hand halfway up to Steve's face.

"But Billie and them boys were pullin' Molly's pigtails," Steve protested. "They'd dirtied up her Sunday best, too. I couldn't stand there and do nothin', Ma!"

"Every time," Sarah muttered, stalking towards the kitchen. "Every time I think that you can't do anything more brash and suicidal, you go above and beyond. Christ, of all the traits to inherit from your father."

"Ma, if I see somethin' like that, I can't ignore it," Steve said, frowning. "And I promise it wasn't three on one - Bucky was on my side!"

Steve gestured at the other boy, who went slightly pink and ducked his head when Sarah met his eyes.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Bucky," Sarah said, feeling the anger drain out of her. Bucky smiled shyly.

"It's nice to meet you too, ma'am," he said quietly. He was a very pretty boy, Sarah realised - and would be a very handsome man one day. 

"You keep my Steven out of trouble, won't you, Bucky?" Sarah asked, and Bucky nodded emphatically.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. Steve punched his shoulder, and Bucky turned a bright, toothy grin at him. 

Satisfied with Bucky's response, Sarah turned to the stove and started cooking dinner.

As much as those horrid women from down the street would talk, Sarah Rogers was no idiot. She may have been a poor, widowed Irish immigrant with an ailing son and a job in a TB ward, but she was not stupid. 

She knew how the world worked. She knew that if you were a woman, it was hard. If your husband died, it was hard. If you weren't born in America or Britain, it was hard. If your skin was too dark, it was hard. If you loved someone you weren't supposed to love, you would die.

Sarah first noticed it when her little Steve was ten years old. He had always been mature for his age and had definitely grown out of that child-like phase where physical contact wasn't a big deal. Children always hung off each other, but when they got older, it always disappeared. Because they started to realise that it wasn't proper, and you could only touch your darling like that. 

And Steve and Bucky could never stop touching each other.

It was usually something small - a hand on an elbow, an arm thrown across shoulders, pinkies or ankles hooked together under a table. Sometimes it was bigger - sleeping in the same bed, Steve's head tucked into the side of Bucky's neck, cuddling while reading or doing homework, a kiss on the cheek or the forehead.

And it didn't stop. Not when Bucky shot up like a weed when he was fourteen, not when Steve was dying of pneumonia at sixteen, not when Sarah started coughing up blood and couldn't leave her bed and begged Bucky to keep Steve away, to stay away, because the consumption had her, and it would get them, too. And Sarah was dying slowly, painfully, and she cried herself to sleep some nights because she knew that her little Stevie loved with every fibre of his being, would scream it from the rooftops, would stop at nothing to be with the person he loved. But if he did any of that, Sarah knew that he would die - that he would end up like poor Percival from down the street, who'd been found with his skull beaten in and the word _fag_ engraved on his chest with a knife at the age of twenty-two. Stevie and Bucky would end up like that if they didn't stay quiet, if they didn't keep it secret, and no healthy relationship is secret. It broke Sarah's heart, to know that her son was in love with a man, and the world hated him for it.

2 - Peggy Carter

Men were terrible, Peggy decided a very long time ago. The only one who was worth a damn was her brother, and he was dead. And there were no good men left.

Then Peggy met Steve Rogers. 

Steve Rogers looked as if he was one cold away from dying. He was a full head shorter than her, with swollen joints and sickly thin limbs, much like those poverty-ridden people Peggy had seen all over Europe. His face was gaunt, his mouth set in a frown, his eyes furrowed with determination. But he was good. And it didn't take long for Peggy to realise that she was the only person who realised that.

Steve was from Brooklyn. At Lehigh, he'd sat down with her with a cup of coffee and told her about his best friend. Peggy thought that Bucky was a rather odd name, but she didn't understand Americans that well, anyway. And Bucky was tall and strong, and handsome, and Steve carried around a photo of him in his breast pocket. Even when Steve turned big and strong and capable, Peggy always knew that the photo was tucked safely away, next to Steve's heart.

And after the serum, there was really no other way to explain Steve other than _godlike._ When the pod had opened, Peggy had been reminded of the sculptures and statues depicting Roman gods that she had seen when visiting the Louvre in Paris. Steve was almost a foot taller than he originally was, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. The only things that stayed the same were his crooked nose and his plush lips (Peggy had never seen such full lips on a man - it was quite disconcerting). And when she'd seen him again in Europe, Steve had become withdrawn, focused, with sad eyes and a hunched form, as if he was trying to make himself smaller.

Despite this, Peggy still believed that Steve was the only good man left. True, the Howling Commandoes were charming in their own way, but they were much too loud and arrogant. All except for one.

James Barnes was nothing like Peggy expected. She'd heard about him from Steve, who talked about a beautiful, confident young man who could own any room he walked into and win the hearts of any woman. The James Barnes that Peggy met was so different from the stories that Peggy didn't even recognise him.

James was a couple of inches taller than Peggy, but he stood hunched over with his head lowered. There were dark circles under his eyes and a scar going through his left eyebrow, and when she'd sat next to him at the bar he'd just nodded and smiled politely and called her "ma'am". They'd sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Steve had walked over, and James's mannerisms completely changed. He'd sat up straight, downed the shot of whiskey he'd been nursing for a good half hour, and turned around to loudly greet Steve, who had laughed and pulled him into a hug. Steve had turned to Peggy then, a smile on his face, and said, "Peggy, this is Sergeant James Barnes. Bucky, this is Agent Peggy Carter."

James had winked at her, which made Steve laugh, and the two of them wandered off, arms thrown over each other's shoulders. 

A few hours later, Peggy had found James out the front of the bar, sitting on the sidewalk and silently shaking. Peggy brushed down her dress and sat next to him, not surprised to find him crying.

After a minute of silence, Peggy asked, "Why do you act differently around Captain Rogers?"

James had replied, "Because I don't want him to see what I've become."

Peggy had walked him home and brushed her lips across his forehead at the barracks.

Perhaps Steve Rogers was not the only good man in the world.

3 - Natasha Romanov

When Natalia was a little girl, she'd had a teacher.

He'd first appeared when she was five years old. His hair was down to his chin, and Natalia had never seen a man with such long hair. One of the older girls, Yasmina, was the first to tell them what had happened to Tatianna, the girl who disappeared. She had been told that Tatianna was killed by the Winter Soldier, who would kill anyone of them who stepped out of line. This was what the guards had told them when they'd introduced the man as the Winter Soldier. Natalia didn't think he looked dangerous. He just looked sad.

He was a good teacher - he never punished them when they did something wrong. Instead, he would gently adjust their grip on a knife or disassemble a gun slow enough for them to follow. When Anastacia had fallen and scraped her knee and started crying, he had kneeled down next to her and gently wiped her tears away, placing a band-aid on her knee.

One day, Natalia had approached him on their lunch break with her apple. He was sitting alone, and he had no food.

"Why have you not eaten?" Natalia asked curiously. He'd looked up at her in surprise. It took a few seconds for him to respond.

"Asset does not require sustenance."

Those were big words - Natalia had not been taught those yet. She held out the apple. "Everyone needs to eat. I'm not hungry, anyway."

He had stared at her in bewilderment.

"What is your name?" Natalia asked.

"Asset does not require a title," he responded.

"Asset is not a good name," Natalia said and crossed her arms. "I had a cat that visited my orphanage. His name was Vanya."

He continued to stare at her.

"Your name is Vanya, too," Natalia decided. She stepped forward and placed the apple in Vanya's hand. "My Vanya liked apples."

Then Natalia walked back to Aleksandra and Katya to finish her sandwich.

The next time Natalia saw Vanya, she was eight years old. He had not aged a day. He did not recognise her.

She gave him an apple the following day, and he'd smiled at her.

He kept coming back over the years, and when Natalia was twelve, they'd snuck out to the roof and Natalia had told him about her family, and how HYDRA had killed them and taken her. 

"I must stay here, you must know," she'd begged him to understand. "I must learn what they can teach me, and then I shall be able to avenge my family."

Vanya had bitten his lip, and his hands were clutched tightly together, one flesh, one metal. "You were not my first sister," he'd confessed. "I do not remember her name. She was young and beautiful, just like you. I was on a ship when I last saw her. I do not know where she is now."

"How could you forget a sister's name?" Natalia had questioned. "I could never forget my little Mishka."

Vanya had been silent, and a tear had fallen from his eye. Then Natalia had understood.

"You have forgotten everything, haven't you?"

"Not everything," Vanya mumbled. "There was a boy. He had blonde hair and blue eyes. I loved him."

"He was your brother?"

"He was my love."

A month later, a man named Howard Stark was murdered, and the Widows were released. All eighty of them, between the ages of twelve and sixteen, scattered across Europe like their namesakes. Natalia stayed with Yasmina and Aleksandra until a metal arm had crushed Aleksandra's skull and held Yasmina's neck until she was purple. Then Natalia ran.

4 - Pepper Potts

When Tony had gotten home from the Battle of New York, and after Pepper had scolded him for flying a nuke into a wormhole, he'd alternated between fondly insulting and actually insulting Captain Steve Rogers. When Tony was in a good mood, the Captain was a boring square who wouldn't be able to beat him in a fight, and when he was in a bad mood, the Captain was a boring square who should have died when he'd crashed the plane. Although, when Steve Rogers had visited Stark Tower a year later, Pepper found herself growing quite fond of the man.

Steve was shy and soft-spoken, with quiet grief about him that made Pepper want to wrap him up in a fluffy blanket and keep him there. Looking at his body, people would think he was in his mid to late twenties, but when Pepper looked in his eyes, they were the only part of him that spoke to his true age.

Pepper didn't blame him. He had been ripped away from everything and everyone he ever loved, and was dumped on an alien planet where everyone worshipped the ground he walked on - it would make anyone else go crazy. But not Steve Rogers - he was kind, and polite, and acted as if nothing was wrong. 

Pepper found him in his apartment a couple of months after he moved into the Tower. She'd managed to convince Tony to not make everything America-themed, and she silently praised her past self for the idea. Steve distanced himself from his public persona in a way that Pepper had never seen. He seemed to despise being in the public eye, and never left the tower without a disguise. Steve was sitting on his bed in the dark, a wooden shoebox sitting in his lap. He was silently crying.

"Steven?" Pepper asked tentatively. "Are you alright?"

Steve looked up and quickly wiped away his tears. "Ms Potts. What can I do for you?"

"Oh, none of that formality." Pepper waved her hand, walking across the room to sit down next to him. She didn't touch the light switch. "I've told you - it's just Pepper. Calling me Ms Potts makes me feel old."

Steve gave her a small smile and looked down at his lap, tracing the pattern on the lid of the shoebox with his finger.

"Steven," Pepper said softly. "You can talk to me. You know that, right?"

Steve stayed silent, but Pepper saw his tears start falling again. He didn't try to wipe them away.

"Have you read _Invisible Man,_ Pepper?" Steve asked.

"I can't say I have."

"It has a passage, where the Invisible Man refers to himself as a meteorite," Steve said, not looking up. "_Perhaps, like them, I was a throwback, a small distant meteorite that died several hundred years ago and now lived only by virtue of the light that speeds through space at too great a pace to realize that its source has become a piece of lead._ Tell me, Ms Potts. What does that remind you of?"

Steve's tone was bitter and full of pain, and Pepper was taken aback - she had never seen him let go of his control enough to show her how he really felt, and the true extent of his grief was heart-wrenching.

"You lost everything you loved in what felt like barely any time at all," Pepper finally said. "And you feel like you're alone in an alien world. But you're not alone." She turned to look at Steve. "You must know that, Steve. You're not alone in this. We all care about you."

"Even Tony?" Steve asked dryly, and Pepper laughed.

"Tony has strange ways of showing love."

"I pity your relationship."

"Dear God, don't make me think about it - I just might break up with him."

"No, you won't," Steve said, and a small but genuine smile was on his face. "Because you do love him. And he loves you."

Pepper ducked her head, feeling her cheeks heat up and her lips curl into a smile. Being with Steve was easy, comfortable - it was a nice change from her busy job and highly strung boyfriend. After a few minutes, Steve slid the lid off the box in his hands.

"This is what I keep my memories in," he said softly. Pepper gently took the box from his outstretched hands and placed it in her lap. The contents included several pictures, a battered ticket of some kind, a key, a compass, a sketchbook, a few pencils, and a pair of dog tags.

The compass was the one that had been in so many of the videos from the war - an old, bronze thing, with a picture of Peggy Carter in the lid. Peggy had been Pepper's role model her entire life - a woman able to create an intelligence agency with little to no help from men, while being discriminated against for her gender. Peggy Carter's belief in herself had shown Pepper that it was possible and that women could do great things. She owed Peggy Carter her life.

"If I'm being too forward, just tell me," Pepper said hesitantly. "Were you and Peggy Carter ever in a relationship?"

Steve huffed out a laugh. "The history books have painted this epic love story for the two of us, and people believe that Peggy was my one true love." Steve smiled self-deprecatingly. "Just because we worked closely together and were of different genders, we had to be in love. But Peggy and I were just friends - and I was already in love with someone else."

Pepper's eyebrows raised. She did not know that. 

Setting the compass gently aside, Pepper took out a pile of photos. The first one was of ten men with their arms around each other, with Steve in the middle. Steve was smiling, and looking at the dark-haired man on his left with fondness. The next one showed Steve and the same dark-haired man; Steve with his shield, and the other man with a rifle slung across his shoulder. They had their arms around each other. Then there was a picture of the man that had obviously been taken right after he'd woken up because he was slumped against a large man with a bowler hat and cradling a steaming mug.

"That's Bucky," Steve said, in answer to Pepper's unasked question. "Sergeant James Barnes. He is - he _was_ my best friend." Steve's voice cracked slightly.

Another picture showed the man - Bucky - in full uniform, his hat cocked to the side and a grin on his face. Then a much older one showed two young boys - one with blonde hair, one a brunette. 

"Best friends since childhood," Pepper recalled from the Smithsonian exhibit. Steve took in a shaky breath and nodded.

Taking the ticket out, Pepper made out a few words on the side. _4 July 1934, Coney Island Day Pass._

"Bucky took me to Coney Island for my sixteenth birthday," Steve croaked out. "We went on the Cyclone, and I threw up. We spent the money we were meant to use on train tickets home on hot dogs, and rode home in the back of a freezer truck."

"And this?" Pepper asked softly, picking up the key.

"My ma died when I was twenty," Steve whispered. "I couldn't keep our apartment, because I couldn't work and I didn't have any money. All the money I did have I'd spent on the funeral. Bucky asked me to move in with him to this tiny little one-bedroom in Red Hook. It was a dump - the other residents worked in the underground gay scene so there were raids of the building every so often, everyone shared a toilet, and the windows didn't properly shut. Bucky and I shared this tiny cot for four years until he left for war in '42."

It was when Pepper leafed through the sketchbook, filled with beautifully tragic sketches of Bucky Barnes, that she finally understood.

5 - Wanda Maximoff

The man in the red, white and blue was graffitied on an old warehouse, a cruel caricature of the Americans, who stood for nothing but themselves. Wanda had seen him once before - when he'd killed Herr Strucker and his Iron friend had taken the sceptre. He hadn't seemed like the man everyone thought him to be - especially not when she took a quick look inside his head.

Captain America grieved. Wanda had thought she knew grief before, but a single glance at his emotions had made her collapse, her sobs taking her breath away, and Pietro had to carry her away. They'd watched the HYDRA base burn from the trees as Pietro gently wiped her tears away.

There was a mural of the Captain's face on the warehouse, his skin ghost white and his eyes bright red. The word FASCIST was scrawled across the image.

Wanda turned away.

As Wanda was inside the Captain's head, in a boatyard in Africa, she thought that he wasn't much like a fascist. He had strong morals and a stronger will, driven by bitterness and grief and the desire to make people's lives just a little bit better. 

_The Captain is in a dancehall, wearing 1940's style military colours, and he is smiling down at a beautiful woman with dark hair and red lips. She grows taller and her hair recedes back into her skull, and it's a slim man now dancing in the Captain's arms. He leans forward and kisses the Captain, and the scene around them changes to a frozen landscape, the Captain standing on the steel floor of a train and the man slipping from his arms and down into the ravine, arms stretched out and mouth twisted into a scream. Then they're back on the dancefloor, but the man's hair is long and his left arm is metal. He holds onto the Captain like a lifeline, and blood spills from his mouth._

_"You did this," he whispers in the Captain's ear, then he kisses the Captain again with blood on his lips._

The Captain's grief was so strong that Wanda had to be carried from the boatyard.

+1 

Sam understood. He may have acted like he didn't, but he understood.

He understood the way that Barnes only ever turned his back to Steve, the way he could only ever fall asleep if Steve was right next to him. Sam understood the stolen glances, the way Steve shone whenever Barnes did something for himself, how Barnes never smiled with his eyes unless he was looking at Steve.

Sam understood because it was his job to understand. He understood because he'd been through the same thing with Riley. 

And it was kinda hilarious that Steve and Barnes didn't seem to see that they were in love.

It started with a small party in Avengers Tower. Thor had come down from Asgard for some team-building and had brought his super-special-super-alcohol, so Tony, in typical Tony fashion, had organised a little get-together with the Avengers and a few of their close friends. Pepper's sister had brought her three girls (three, seven and eight respectively), and little Rosie had immediately tottered over to Barnes to look at his arm. She had quickly been joined by her sisters, and Anne and Victoria had started braiding his hair, with Natasha's help. Barnes looked a little embarrassed, but he was smiling as Rosie stuck his fingers in her mouth, gurgling happily.

Sam was sitting at the bar with Steve, Thor and Rhodey, trying very hard not to laugh as a very drunk Steve waxed poetic about his best friend. From the look on Rhodey's face, he was in the same boat.

"He's always been so pretty, y'know?" Steve slurred, leaning heavily into Sam's side. "All Old Hollywood, Buck used to be. Used to be able to get any gal he wanted." Steve frowned, his eyes glassy. "None of 'em ever stuck around for long, though. Never knew why - anyone of 'em woulda been lucky to be with Buck."

When Steve was drunk, his Brooklyn accent came out a lot easier. It would have been sweet if Sam didn't hate Brooklyn accents.

"An' he's so cautious and shy now, but he's still so pretty. Nicest looking person I've ever seen. Not even Peggy could compare to him." Steve sighed happily, his breath smelling like alcohol.

"A truly wonderful bond, you and the Sergeant share," Thor boomed. "Much like my dear Jane and I, though you have been through much more with your beloved than I."

Steve shook his head, leaning towards Thor. Rhodey caught him before he could fall out of his chair. "An' he's so strong now, an' I don't hafta worry about breaking him anymore," Steve almost swooned. Sam silently prayed he didn't talk about some of his sexual fantasies because that was certainly the track the conversation would take. "And sometimes when we spar together he strangles me with his thighs." Yep, there it was.

"Ah, the elixir of truth does loosen one's tongue," Thor said jovially, taking a large swig of Asgardian liquor. Rhodey rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. 

"Alright Cap, sleepy time," Sam joked, throwing one of Steve's arms over his shoulders. "Let's get you to bed before Mama Barnes sees what a bad babysitter I am."

Steve fell asleep on him in the elevator, and Sam had to get Jarvis to call Thor up to carry the unconscious super-soldier to bed.

Next had come the movie night incident. 

Every Wednesday, all the Avengers pile into Steve and Bucky's apartment and watch a movie that takes an hour to decide on, and then everyone crashes in the living room.

That night it was Clint's turn to pick a movie, and he predictably picked the Hunger Games, which set off an argument that lasted forty-five minutes until he relented and, grumbling, picked the animated Robin Hood from 1974. It was a rare night where Barnes joined them, and as usual, instead of sitting down like a normal person, he flopped down onto Steve's lap and curled up there like a large cat. Steve absentmindedly wrapped his arms around Barnes' waist and kissed his hair, completely oblivious to everyone staring at him. Wanda rolled her eyes at Sam, and Tony made a very sexual hand gesture that caused Natasha to kick him in the stomach.

All throughout the movie, Sam could hear low murmurs coming from Steve's armchair, syllables permeated with that Brooklyn drawl. When the movie ended almost everyone was already asleep, but Sam watched through half-lidded eyes as Steve picked up Barnes and carried him down the hall to their bedroom.

The next morning, as usual, Steve woke up at an ungodly time and made breakfast, waking everyone up with the smell of bacon and coffee. Halfway through breakfast, as Clint was trying to cram an entire waffle stacked with bacon and maple syrup into his mouth, Barnes walked in. His eyes were half-lidded, his hair sticking up in all directions and a blanket draped over his shoulders. He grabbed a plate of waffles and bacon, kissed Steve's cheek when offered his coffee, then walked back the way he came. Steve watched him go with a goofy smile on his face, Tony made a very vulgar comment, and Bruce groaned loudly into his green tea.

Sam was at his wit's end, and he wasn't the only one. He'd walked in on Tony and Bruce conversing almost manically over a mind map, a large header stating "HOW TO TELL TWO SUPERSOLDIERS FROM THE 1940S THAT THEY ARE IN LOVE". Natasha and Clint had broken into Steve and Barnes' apartment while the two of them were out to try and find any evidence of a romantic relationship (the problem was that Steve and Barnes already acted like they were married). Even Thor had attempted to help, bringing a bottle of something from Asgard and proclaiming it to be able to make the two super-soldiers confess their love to one another.

The team's joint efforts to play matchmaker had to be put on hold when several very large and very dangerous creatures attacked Moscow. Barnes, still recovering, was forced to stay at the Tower, which he expressed his displeasure for by glaring at Steve at every opportunity while still impersonating a cuddly house cat. Just before they were due to leave, Sam saw Barnes and Steve wrapped up tightly in each other, foreheads pressed together as they whispered to each other. Sam turned away to give them some privacy.

The battle against what Thor described as Draugr but what Tony referred to as "weird-ass Scott Lang-like zombies" lasted three days, and the clean-up lasted four. Steve, because he was an idiot, had gotten badly injured in the fight, and was still limping when they departed Moscow.

"Do you think Barnes'll be pissed?" Sam murmured, and Natasha snorted.

"We'll be lucky if there's anything of Rogers left," she replied, but she was grinning.

Sure enough, when the quinjet landed on Avengers Tower, Barnes was standing next to Pepper, his hair done up in a braid, and wearing sweatpants and a shirt that Sam knew was Steve's. His arms were crossed, and Sam could feel the weight of his glare from his seat. Steve looked out the window and paled. Clint snickered.

As soon as the hangar door opened Barnes was stalking into the plane, hands balled into fists. He completely ignored the other inhabitants of the quinjet, and as soon as he got to Steve he threw his arms around Steve's shoulders and pulled him down into a kiss that looked so violent that Sam wondered if their lips would bruise. Sam blinked a couple of times, looked around at everyone else's gobsmacked expressions to make sure he wasn't seeing things and looked back at the two super-soldiers who were attempting to devour each other.

"If you ever do something like that again," Barnes finally growled, sounding a bit breathless. "I will _leave_ you for an old, rich man who's too sickly to do anything but lie in bed."

"But I _am_ an old, rich man, Buck," Steve replied. "And you and I both know you wouldn't last without my dick." Bruce choked from his spot in the corner. Tony looked both delighted and horrified. 

"Your dick is the only reason I stay with you, Rogers," Barnes snapped. "And you've been away for a week - you have a lot of catching up to do. And lots of grovelling."

Steve looked entirely too pleased with himself when Barnes dragged him out of the quinjet. Clint silently handed Natasha ten dollars.

When the two of them came down for breakfast the next day, Steve still with that pleased look on his face and Barnes wincing every time he shifted, Sam resolutely refused to look either of them in the eye.

**Author's Note:**

> God, I need to start writing more.


End file.
